


Gently Rise, and Softly Call

by LorettaFryingPan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, POV Second Person, spoilers for episode 113
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 05:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LorettaFryingPan/pseuds/LorettaFryingPan
Summary: This is the last time you will see him.





	Gently Rise, and Softly Call

**Author's Note:**

> "But since it fell unto my lot/that I should rise, and you should not/I'll gently rise and softly call/goodnight and joy be to you all"

This is the last time you will see him. 

Your senses come back to you in a rush of clarity and pain and they are all in front of you in an instant, Vex'ahlia keeping the giant Dragonborn at bay. There is weeping and gasps of horror and you still do not know what is going on.

He is staring at you and it looks like his heart is breaking, like he is dying slowly to see you there before him. But he holds your face in his hands and speaks to you of madness, of the dire circumstances that seem to always dog the footsteps of this rowdy bunch of vagabonds that you have come to love so dearly. There is a sick pallor to his skin, and shadows beneath his eyes that speak to a weariness that goes deeper than sleeplessness alone. The old spiderweb cracks that run along your own heart ache to see him suffering still. 

Everyone stammers to explain what is happening but there is just too much, and no time. They all beg you to leave, to get as far as you can from what is about to happen. That is the first sign that things are worse than they have ever been. 

You recognize Cassandra but not the gnomish girl, Kaylie-still, it's not hard to guess who she is with the sharp curve of her cheekbones and the way Scanlan says goodbye to her-and you pull them close. He says it was an honor to know you. That is the second sign. 

The last time there was a battle like this, he said 'goodbye'. You told him that he was coming home, and to say 'see you soon'. He is not giving you an easy chance to thwart him now. The riposte comes quickly enough anyways; "it will be an honor to know you still", and you almost believe it. 

But there is a shadow over his face, and fear in his eyes, and he does not say goodbye. And for the first time since he stumbled into your shop all those years ago, through all the darkness and fear and death that he came through the other side of, you think that this time he might not come back. He might stealth into shadow for the last time. 

There is a clattering at the door and the Dragonborn goes to hold it, you begin the spell to flee back to Emon and don't move your eyes from him even once. You commit every detail you can to memory-the inky sheen of feathers, the colorful glass beads strung into his hair, the darkness of his eyes. There is a flash of arcane light and the three of you are gone, back in the workshop you had been ripped from. Smothering quiet fills the space, only broken by your harsh breathing. 

The weariness and heartsickness rolls in like the tide, and there is nothing to do but sit on the floor with the two young women in silent shock. There is no way of knowing what the next hours or days will bring; but still there is the knowledge that sits like an icy stone in your gut that the future no longer holds him.

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I'm pretty lukewarm on second-person fics, but this just struck me and I had a lot of fun writing it. If you had fun reading it, please leave a comment! :)
> 
> (You can also find my writing at djinn-and-djuice on tumblr)


End file.
